


Taking The Waiting Out Of Wanting

by helloshepard



Series: helloshepard's TRANSFORMERS fics (2020- ? ) [24]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (mis)use of the positive reinforcement prison, Extremely Dubious Consent, Multi, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Prisoner of War, Telepathy, Unconventional Interrogative Techniques, spoilers in the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29856327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: Soundwave gets what he wants.
Relationships: Prowl/Shockwave/Soundwave (Transformers)
Series: helloshepard's TRANSFORMERS fics (2020- ? ) [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789297
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Taking The Waiting Out Of Wanting

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to this fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341440) though you don't have to read one to understand the other.

Soundwave came back to consciousness slowly. His frame ached, an unsubtle reminder of the firefight he had been in not half a day prior. The usual cloud of nebulous abilities felt…hazier, somehow. Distant.

Abruptly, he snapped to full awareness as his senses caught up with his partially-archived memory storage.

Yume-3. The extraction. The ambush.

Soundwave moved to sit up, realizing a moment too late that the recharge slab he lay on was medical grade. The magnetic field held him in place, preventing all but the slightest movements in his fingers.

He switched his optics online. The instinctive fear he felt as Shockwave loomed above him wasn’t unfounded—privately, Soundwave was surprised that he had awoken in one piece. When the mood struck him, Shockwave could be infuriatingly persuasive, and Soundwave had already been foolish enough to utilize his abilities for the war. If Shockwave caught Megatron at the right time, made the right argument…Soundwave could easily see himself hooked up to Ferak’s newest iteration of the Nightmare Machine for the next thousand years.

Soundwave tried to shake his head, attempting to clear the staticky, treasonous thoughts out of his processor. His head remained stubbornly where it was, held fast by the magnetic slab.

Shockwave seemed blind—uncaring, more likely—of Soundwave’s attempts to move.

“Your injuries were not as severe as initial reports assumed,” Shockwave droned. “I will need to speak with the field medics about their penchant for prioritizing dramatics over facts.”

Soundwave glanced down at his frame, and realized that Shockwave was right: with the exception of a few dents and the remnants of a blaster wound on his left hip, he was uninjured.

“Injuries are limited,” Soundwave said. “Reasoning for restraint?”

“We did not want you to overreact,” Shockwave said, which managed to sound like an insult despite the words being spoken with the same, inflectionless tone the mech always used. Before Soundwave could demand further explanation, a familiar form stepped into view.

How had he remained hidden from Soundwave for so long? Had the Autobots developed new cloaking tech that incidentally kept a mech shielded from him? Or—Soundwave forced himself to focus, and was relieved when the endless calculations spilled into his awareness. More than once, when too many centuries passed with no obvious sign of Prowl’s expert hand in the war, Soundwave feared the Autobots had taken a scalpel to his brilliant, dedicated processor and cut out everything that made Prowl  _ Prowl,  _ leaving in its place a shell of the Autobot tactician.

But one way or another, Prowl came back. He  _ always _ came back. 

“Not the introduction to the Decepticons I expected,” Prowl said. “If this is what a typical Decepticon operation is like, I am genuinely surprised this war has continued for so long.”

“Things rarely go according to plan when Soundwave is involved,” Shockwave said. “I anticipate you will be more than capable of keeping him in line.”

Soundwave was mortified to feel his internal temperature kick up a degree. Thankfully, neither Prowl nor Shockwave appeared to notice. Before Soundwave could demand Shockwave release him once again, Shockwave pulled up a command and triggered the release mechanism. Soundwave sat up quickly, ignoring the lingering ache in his chassis.

“While the particulars of your plan certainly required some fine-tuning, I appreciate the effort.” With one hand, Prowl gestured to Soundwave, who found himself basking in the attention. “It has been a long time coming.”

Soundwave blinked. For a moment, the calculations dancing across his body had shifted. He could not begin to interpret the meaning behind them, but as far as he understood—and Soundwave had devoted a not-insignificant amount of time to understanding the tactical software utilized and hated by the Autobots in equal measure. Was Prowl concealing an injury? He doubted Prowl would consent to a medical examination  _ or _ a processor scan in this stage. Had the field medics not brought him in while he was unconscious, Soundwave would have refused to enter Shockwave’s lab.

“I trust the accommodations are to your liking?” Shockwave’s voice. Soundwave tore his optics away from Prowl. Prior to the disastrous extraction, Soundwave had provided Prowl with a datapad, giving him free choice to select his own quarters and what limited choices their currently-strained resources allowed.

“They are adequate.”

Shockwave had moved to stand behind him—Soundwave could hear the faint click of the mech’s fingers against the keypad. He had to resist the urge to turn, not entirely trusting his proximity sensors to keep track of Shockwave. But if he turned,  _ Prowl _ would be out of his line of sight. Soundwave tried to adjust his position and keep both mechs in sight: it was impossible, but worth the attempt. Soundwave faced Prowl, placing a possibly-unwarranted amount of trust in the mech by relying on him to prevent Shockwave from attempting anything too nefarious.

“I will conduct your debriefing,” Prowl said. “As I was personally involved with the last portion of the extraction, I will be able to easily verify those details, but obviously I was not present for the beginning.”

As always, Prowl’s reasoning was wholly logical, rooted in sound reasoning. It was a welcome relief. Soundwave nodded.

“Let us begin.”

* * *

The cold regard of Optimus Prime’s optics had come to rest on his back. Prowl was no telepath, but he could certainly feel the righteous suspicion brushing against the edges of his field.

“I was under the impression—” Optimus began, but Prowl cut him off.

“I did not program it,” Prowl said quickly. “The positive reinforcement prison designs the simulation based directly on the subject’s mind. Neither you nor I, nor Ratchet—” Prowl gestured to Ratchet. Here at Optimus’ insistence, Ratchet did not look up from his own datapad, which displayed a readout of Soundwave’s vital signs. “—would be capable of altering the simulation to any meaningful degree.”

“That was not what I was about to ask.” Clearly a lie. There were 19 possible ways Optimus could have finished that question. 16 were considered irrelevant or nonsensical and discarded accordingly. The remaining three were all variants of the same:  _ why are you in his dream. _

It was a question Prowl had no answer for. 

In reality, Soundwave was strapped to an interrogation chair, unmoving save for the occasional twitch of his limbs and the hot air coming from his vents. But in Soundwave’s mind…

Prowl forced his gaze back to the monitor.

Shockwave had placed a hand on Soundwave’s shoulder. Soundwave had frozen, and his internal temperature had gone up another two degrees. The other Prowl took a measured step closer, effectively pinning him in place.

“We should stop this,” Optimus said.

He did not move.

* * *

  
  


“Tell me about the Singular Point munitions factory.”

They were well past the extraction debriefing, having long ago moved to officially orienting Prowl to his position as tactical commander.

With each facet of the Decepticon’s strategies they covered, Prowl had taken one step closer to Soundwave, moving closer and closer until their fields were fully entangled. Soundwave could feel nothing from Shockwave save for the hand on his shoulder, keeping him where he sat on the recharge slab. The silence was chilling, but the sheer amount of data spilling from Prowl more than made up for it.

“Munitions,” Soundwave repeated, slowly. With Prowl this close, it was getting difficult to think about anything other than Shockwave’s hand on his frame, Prowl’s field against his.

They were so close that the initial physical contact went undetected. Soundwave had been concerned with the way Shockwave’s hand had been moving incrementally down his back until it rested just above a  _ very _ delicate bundle of nerve sensors. Were he so inclined, Shockwave could easily inflict a debilitating amount of pain with a simple action.

It was only when Prowl’s fingers hooked deftly under Soundwave’s chin that he flinched, abruptly pulled back to who stood in front of him. His internal temperature went up another three degrees—if it went any higher, both Prowl  _ and _ Shockwave would realize that, against all reason and logic, Soundwave wanted nothing more than to— 

Than to...

“Tell me,” Prowl said, slowly tilting Soundwave’s helm up to meet his optics. “About the Singular Point munitions factory.”

* * *

  
  


“Stop this,” Optimus said. “Stop this  _ now.” _

“Ratchet?” Prowl typed in the next question, punctuating it with far more force than was strictly necessary, and sent it over for the simulated version of himself to ask. “Is Soundwave’s situation, to quote Article 198.73 of the Tyrest Accord, _ ‘cruel, unusual, designed to cause unnecessary, lasting harm?’” _

“No,” Ratchet said. “But  _ also _ I don’t think Tyrest ever considered ‘three Autobots watch a Decepticon fantasize himself into overload’ a possible situation, much less one that would be measured against his legislation.”

“This is wrong.” Apparently unwilling to be sidelined, Optimus stood and forced his way between Prowl and Ratchet. “A Cybertronian’s mind is their own. We have no right to coerce Soundwave in this manner.”

Prowl slammed the datapad down.

_ “You _ were second in command to Zeta, Optimus. I don’t recall you raising these objections when he founded the New Institute.”

“Mnemosurgery was a  _ legally sanctioned punishment. _ This—” Optimus gestured to the interrogation room. “Is not mnemosurgery by any stretch of the imagination.”

“What is it?” Prowl snapped. “Is because he sees me in there? Or is it because  _ you _ are seeing it?”

“It is  _ wrong,” _ Optimus repeated, and Prowl took a preemptive step back, anticipating one of the Prime’s more physical temper tantrums. Before either of them could react, Ratchet spoke up.

“Soundwave’s vitals are rising. Core consciousness is on the verge of reactivation.” Ratchet frowned. “Prowl? Calm down.”

“Calm  _ down?” _ Before Prowl could explain that he was as calm as could be expected, Ratchet gestured to the monitor. In the simulation, Prowl was still standing above Soundwave, but posture had shifted, doorwings hiked high in an eerie mimicry of the real Prowl’s current position. Soundwave was still staring up at him, but the confusion was obvious even on his masked face. Ratchet held up another datapad, and Prowl squinted, trying to read its contents from across the room.

“What little data we gathered about Soundwave’s outlier abilities the first time he was captured suggests, as you said, that the reinforcement simulation would be a more effective interrogation tactic than our traditional methods. What you did not know—what I  _ hope _ you did not know—is that your current proximity to him has ensured he…” Ratchet trailed off. “Well. That he believes it.”

“Soundwave is reading Prowl’s mind?” Optimus’ voice carried a hint of worry. For once, Prowl did not blame him.

“With the reminder that all of this is wholly hypothetical? No. Soundwave is reading  _ his _ mind.” Ratchet pointed to the Prowl in the simulation. “But Prowl’s presence—the real Prowl—his field, or his mind, or  _ whatever _ , is exerting enough influence on Soundwave’s unconscious to keep him believing that that is the real Prowl.”

“So if I left the base…”

“Or if you continued your screaming match with Optimus, Soundwave would likely snap out of it, yes.”

Prowl swore, quietly. He refused to meet Optimus’ optics as he returned to his seat, forcing his overclocked systems to cancel all threat responses. The monitor beeped accusingly at him as Soundwave’s internal temperature rose another two degrees. 

“I will be outside,” Optimus said to Ratchet.

Prowl waited until the Prime’s footsteps faded before daring to let out a burst of pent-up frustration that manifested in the form of a gust of hot air expelled from his vents. Ratchet nudged his hand and Prowl looked over to see a cube of coolant being shoved in his direction. 

“Your temperature is rising,” Ratchet said.

Prowl took the drink.

**Author's Note:**

> uhh
> 
> sorry soundwave


End file.
